


Moonlight

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Few things are more persistent than a Sentinel.





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published June 22, 2008

Ornasse couldn’t understand how it had happened.

Thus far, the most apt analogy he had come up with was the time he had been tasked with delivering a tranquilizing poison into a Devilsaur’s bloodstream. One moment, prowling through the deep, dark jungle; the next he was facing an enormous angry mouth filled with teeth like swords. The subsequent rush of danger, and the dizzying thrill of fleeing for his life was something like what he was now feeling. Almost, but not quite.

He was not even sure when it had happened. Ornasse had been spending another miserable evening walled inside the human city, trying in vain to keep its residents from befouling the moonwell in the park district. He was seeking a comrade of his, a fellow druid by the name of Varul. He’d recently ventured into the Dream — and returned in one piece — so Ornasse was eager to speak with him. An endless stream of whores, fools and drunkards wandered up to the moonwell’s stone sides, and Ornasse repelled them each in turn. Sometimes he made the effort to explain its importance, but most times he did not. It wouldn’t matter. They would return in a few hours, or the next day. Sighing, he had channeled a purifying spell through his fingers, alighting the water’s surface with shimmering light. It was cleansed, to a degree, at least until the next person came along.

The next person who came along was not a human, however. Feeling eyes upon him, Ornasse had turned to see a kal’dorei woman leaning against the wall. She was a fighter of some sort, dressed in well-kept but worn leathers, a long dagger at each hip. And she was beautiful. No, more than beautiful; her pale skin and long silver-white hair made her look as if she was made of moonlight itself.

Ornasse said something stupid. She was a little offended, perhaps, but she didn’t stab him, or leave. He said something else stupid, but this time she smiled — a sly, knowing half-smile. That could very well have been the moment, Ornasse realized now. He wanted to get away from the city and the crowds, to talk to her more. Maybe she’d even smile at him again. He was surprised when she accepted.

They went to the forest in Terokkar, not far from the busy Draenei city. It was the closest thing to home that he had found on that strange world, and it made him feel at home in spite of the unusual creatures who dwelled there. Perhaps they were beginning to accept each other.

Her name was Naeva, and they had spoken for hours underneath the strange alien sky. She’d been a warden in the barrows in Ashenvale, and she too was distressed at the way their traditions seemed to be slipping away. Ornasse didn’t remember all of the things they talked about, still trying to understand why she’d agreed to come at all. Surely she had a husband, or at the very least a suitor. But she’d kept looking at him, a long white brow arched in amusement or perhaps appraisal. Finally he’d just asked outright, and no, she didn’t have anyone. Yes, she’d consider it.

She’d agreed to meet him again, when her duties allowed for it. Ornasse suspected that might be a polite refusal, but much to his surprise she’d come a few nights later to the Moonglade. She’d stirred the instincts that had lain dormant for these past few centuries, the urge to protect something other than the boundless wilds. To be frank, there was a more basic instinct awoken as well, and it took more care than usual to keep it in check. He also felt the meager call of hope, something he’d left behind long ago, hope that he might find the quiet family life that had eluded him. When he was younger, he had not given it much thought, but in his twilight he now realized that he did not have a great deal of time left. If, that is, she even felt the same way.

Zharya had not. He’d met the wild huntress on one of his early visits to the city, and she had been insistent in her attentions. Ornasse had turned her down repeatedly, but eventually her persistence — and a great deal of Darkmoon ale — wore his defenses down. Once she had him though, she had lost interest. It was painful and embarassing to admit, but it seemed he had only been another quarry to her. Looking back, it was easy to see now, but Ornasse had been caught up in the moment, in the hope that she might be the key to the life he had missed out on. He’d asked her to stay with him, and she had declined — quite firmly. She’d returned to the wilds, leaving him stung and wounded.

Probably it was naive, but Ornasse believed that this was different. He could not believe that it was only chance that had brought their paths together, and he would do anything within his power to ensure that they did not part again. He’d journeyed to the distant Exodar, riding the ship across the foggy sea to the little island. There he had visited the master jeweler, for he’d heard that their skill far exceeded any he might find even in Ironforge. The jeweler was intrigued with the stone he had brought, and eager to fulfill his request. When Ornasse made the return trip across the sea, he brought back with him a small crystal box in which laid the necklace — and all of his hopes.


End file.
